


you're my sweetheart.

by h2owo



Series: i believe in hinata harem supremacy [18]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, God he pines, I love they, Idol Hinata Shouyou, Kinda, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Tsukishima Kei, The tiniest manga spoilers about tsukki, Tsukishima just got scouted by the sendai frogs, and he simps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:33:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27955451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h2owo/pseuds/h2owo
Summary: In which Tsukishima Kei, the new Sendai Frog's middle blocker, attends Hinata Shouyou's first concert and out of desperation, proceeds to confess to the soon-to-be nation's sweetheart.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Tsukishima Kei
Series: i believe in hinata harem supremacy [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1627243
Comments: 36
Kudos: 299





	you're my sweetheart.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm so LATE AHHHHHHH pls forgive me omg ;;  
> in honor of it being finals week for some of us, i hope this can bring some joy into your lives <3 i have so many fic ideas ready for the holiday break, so i hope you guys can spare some time for me then uwu <3
> 
> btw, this is the prequel sequel to "nation's sweetheart." but you don't rly need to read it to understand what's going on. it might be more enjoyable if you do read it though hehe
> 
> i hope you enjoy!!!

Tsukishima would like to say that he doesn’t know why he was currently getting odd stares from the people sitting around him, but unfortunately, he doesn’t need to wonder. Tsukishima Kei, aged 18, at a height that’s definitely taller than yours, is seated in the front row to a debut concert for a bunch of new soloists, and he looks sketchy as hell wearing a thick beanie and sunglasses at the late hours of the evening.

See, he wouldn’t have dressed like this if he hadn’t just been scouted by the Sendai Frogs a couple of weeks ago, but now that he’s signed a contract, he kind of wants to maintain a somewhat good reputation for now. And that includes not being seen attending this concert. Actually, concert might not be too accurate considering the stage is a quarter of the Sendai Frog’s gym and there’s about a hundred people here, but Hinata insisted that it was a concert and not a busking event, and Tsukishima is too tired to argue against it, so it’s a concert.

After hearing another girl grumble from a few seats behind him that he looks too sketchy to be here and that people should be keeping an eye on him, he decides he needs to do _something_ before he inevitably blows up and has his middle blocker position revoked before he even gets to play in an official game—or even a practice. So he takes out his phone and scrolls. And it turns out that that’s also a bad idea.

Tsukishima keeps scrolling even though it’s quite clear that everything on his Instagram feed was Hinata. Hinata’s “backstage” picture an hour ago, Hinata’s schedule for the next month, a newly launched project dedicated to compiling thank you videos to Hinata (Tsukishima wonders if they need another admin), Hinata’s new appearances in some ads for a limited edition strawberry shortcake smoothie—Hinata, Hinata, _Hinata is everywhere._

Well, everywhere but _here,_ Tsukishima thinks dryly, rubbing his fingers together when they start to go numb again. He’s been sitting here for a good hour now, waiting for the event to begin. Admittedly, he did get here an hour and some earlier than what was stated in Hinata’s text, but better safe than sorry, right? He lifts his hand to blow warm air onto it, watching with bored eyes as his breath appears as a thin, floating puff of white. He didn’t even know if what the program is going to look like because he took one look at the people passing out the pamphlets and promptly proceeded to avoid them because he recognized that they were both his classmates. And God forbid Tsukishima get exposed by one of them.

“Well shit,” he huffs to himself, ignoring the looks he gets from the two sitting adjacent to him. Yeah, he’s not gonna try to ask them for their pamphlets.

It takes another fifteen minutes or so before the emcee steps up onto the stage, looking absolutely terrified at the small crowd. Tsukishima couldn’t find it in him to feel sorry for the fellow, and instead, he starts to tap his foot against the ground impatiently because _where is Hinata?!_

They get through the small introductions, the emcee playing a horrible icebreaker with the crowd—well, Tsukishima is the only one who seems to be unamused by this nervous emcee’s attempts at getting everyone pumped up, the rest of the crowd is incredibly loud, and for what. Couldn’t be him.

Slouching into his seat, Tsukishima makes an attempt to feign paying attention to all the performers who aren’t Hinata, looking incredibly out of place next to all the youngsters waving their banners and lightsticks. He faintly wonders if Hinata’s future lightstick would have a little tangerine at the top—no, even better: a sun. God, he should’ve been a product designer, just think about all the Tsukihina (yes, he’s thought about their ship name) propaganda he could’ve set free into the world. Lazily clapping along with the rest of the crowd as yet another performance ends, Tsukishima puts that thought away for now. He’ll come back to it later.

The emcee comes back onstage, but this time, he has friends with him. And they’re doing a skit. Tsukishima would rather sit on a cactus than sit through this—

“Oh my God, is Shouyou next?!”

Wait, what.

“Yeah, I think so!” Tsukishima tries his best to hold back on his grimace when his right ear is assaulted by a high-pitch squeal. “I’m so excited, I’ve been rooting for him ever since he was first a trainee!”

_Yeah me too, bitch, you’re not special,_ is what Tsukishima would like to say to this _fan_ of Hinata’s, but alas, he’d prefer to not have his name in headlines for trying to throw hands with a fifteen year-old. Instead, he tries to focus on the important stuff right now: Hinata is going to perform next. Ideally, he’d have an entire camera crew recording the thing (should’ve hit Kenma up before this, shit), but since his masculinity is still fragile, he supposes he’ll settle for sitting up straighter and having his sunglasses further down on the bridge of his nose.

Tsukishima glances back and forth between the two sides of the stage, trying to catch even the _tiniest_ glimpse of Hinata—

Oh. _Oh._

He’s beautiful.

Tsukishima watches with parted lips as Hinata steps up the tiny staircase leading up to the stage, looking like an absolute angel underneath the bright lighting. He recalls having seen Hinata in a similar outfit before when he attended the ginger’s practice, but he didn’t look like _this._ An oversized white sweater that falls past both his shoulder and his hands, black jeans that would look like they’re painted on if not for the hanging threads where they’re ripped (too high, Tsukishima notes, he’ll have to have a talk with Hinata’s stylist), and laced leather boots that make Hinata’s legs go on for miles.

The blond’s eyes travel up and down Hinata’s body, an action that is thankfully hidden by his sunglasses. And coming back up, they land right on the base of Hinata’s dainty neck, where a pretty choker sits, a crescent moon sitting at the very center of the lacey material. Tsukishima’s throat goes dry. In an attempt to calm himself down, he looks further up and—Hinata’s got a little smile on, and he’s looking right at him.

“Hi,” the ginger breathes into the mic, sending the crowd into a screaming frenzy. Tsukishima doesn’t even realize that he mutters his own greeting in return. “Thank you for coming here to see us today.”

Tsukishima wants to tell Hinata that he would make a religion out of him if he could.

“I wanted to start off with a more upbeat song, but you guys just spent a good twenty minutes jumping around with Noya-san, so I figure I should give you guys some rest for now.”

Hinata steps over to the side of the stage to grab a guitar out of its case, and Tsukishima doesn’t even regret thinking that he’d let Hinata step on him if the ginger looked like _that_ doing it. His eyes follow the tiniest things that Hinata does, noticing the habits he’s always had since their first year in high school—the way he fidgets with the guitar strap, how he brushes his heel against the legs of the stool he’s on, how he blinks more when he’s nervous—God, he’s so _perfect._

A staff member quickly gives Hinata a thumbs up and it’s like a flip is switched. Not that any of the crowd members would be able to notice, Tsukishima thinks, secretly proud that he’s the only one who can see the transition away from Hinata’s jittery self.

And his breath is taken away the moment Hinata parts his lips.

He wonders why Hinata is so much more enrapturing when he’s on stage. Part of him wants to say that it’s because he’s only ever seen the ginger practice on the same grounding as him, but the other part of him insists that it’s because Hinata belongs up there. He belongs on stage, where his voice does magical things to people, where the tiniest hand flick up into a finger heart makes the crowd burst into tears.

He belongs up there where he can shine, like the ray of sunshine he is.

Tsukishima wishes he had his phone out to record videos, or take pictures, or _anything._ But he remains frozen in his seat, eyes glued onto the figure on stage, the figure so small that he dedicated all three years to using him as an arm rest—and he watches in awe as Hinata manages to fill up the entire stage by himself. He may call this his debut concert or _whatever,_ but by the way he interacts with the crowd, Tsukishima doubts anyone would realize that Hinata’s a rookie.

He playfully waves his arms in the air when he sings a ballad, he brings his hands together above his head when he dances, encouraging the audience to clap along with him—hell, he even manages to get the crowd to give him a loud cheer—multiple, actually—at one point. And although it was really fucking cheesy with his little _“let’s make some noise!”_ Tsukishima still found it endearing somehow because he just looked so _happy_ when the crowd went along with his wishes.

And when he ends his segment with a little speech, skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat, Tsukishima swears that the crowd was much happier than they were with the other performers (no offence -Tsukki). That may have been because he didn’t care to pay attention to their performances, but who cares, all he knows is that he’s suddenly feeling much better after seeing Hinata, and from his understanding, so is the rest of the crowd.

Hinata gives a wave to the crowd as a goodbye, and just before he leaves the stage, he turns and looks directly into Tsukishima’s eyes, and _winks._

“OH MY GOD, WAS HE LOOKING AT ME?!”

“NO, HE WAS LOOKING AT ME!!”

“NO, I’M TELLING YOU, HE WAS LOOKING RIGHT INTO MY EYES—”

“BITCH, HOW WOULD YOU KNOW, YOU’RE SOBBING YOUR EYES OUT. CAN YOU EVEN SEE?!”

“BETTER THAN YOUR BLIND ASS CAN!!”

Tsukishima is too concerned about whether or not he remembers how to breathe to care about the two people arguing beside him. Hinata, that cheeky little fucker. Placing a hand on his chest, Tsukishima closes his eyes for a second and reminds himself: inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. He can’t give Hinata a piece of his mind later if he asphyxiates himself before then.

The crowd slowly starts to leave after a while, which is understandable considering that the last few performances are less so of performances and more so of long speeches begging certain companies to become sponsors. But Tsukishima refuses to leave. He pats the lapel of his coat once just to remind himself of what he was here for, spending the last twenty minutes or so of the concert mentally preparing himself.

After the crew takes one last bow, Tsukishima finally gets up to go pick Hinata up, taking a quick moment to stretch out his arms and legs. He grimaces when he begins to register the familiar feeling of pins and needles in his calves after having sat for so long. He can only pray that he doesn’t either fall right onto his face or burst into a laughing fit, both of which would be harmful to his soon-to-be career.

Hinata’s putting on his coat when Tsukki pokes his head past the curtains they put up behind the stage. A sad attempt at a changing room, really.

“Hey,” Tsukishima calls, finding the way Hinata flinches adorable.

“Oh, Tsukki!”

The blond expected to be pounced on, and he feels disappointed (rightfully so) when Hinata simply bounces over to where he was standing, still somehow radiating with energy despite his difficult performances.

“You came to see me!”

“Of course I did, I promised,” he grumbles, trying his best to look everywhere but at Hinata’s face (and the choker, too). Hinata briefly gets distracted when he greets his remaining crew members, but Tsukishima manages to bring his attention back with the smallest brush of his fingertips against the back of Hinata’s hand.

“Shou, I’ll walk you home?”

Tsukishima wonders how he’s managed to live through seeing Hinata’s bright smile all these years.

And on the way home, Tsukishima starts his plan. See, he said he was going to take Hinata home, but Tsukishima led Hinata around instead, the two of them ending up at a park, each of them sitting on a swing with a warm drink in hand (that Tsukki bought).

They sit through a comfortable silence that wouldn’t have been possible just two years ago, and the blond glances over just in time to see Hinata’s chin tipped up, the smaller looking up at the sky with the warmest smile. His cheeks and nose are flushed red and so are the tips of his fingers and _God,_ Tsukishima just wants to hold him and kiss him and—

“I wonder if I did well.”

The sudden statement disrupts Tsukishima’s train of thought, and he raises a brow at the other, partly offended.

“Did you not see how well the crowd responded to you? They were following your every beck and call.”

Hinata chuckles in response, swinging his legs back and forth freely, which only reminds Tsukishima of just how small he really was. He grasps onto his coffee a bit tighter.

“Yeah, I suppose. I think it’s a thing for any performer though, y’know? You’re just always left with the feeling that you could’ve done better.”

“I don’t know if that was possible. Look, if I say that you’re amazing, then you’re actually amazing, okay?”

The ginger turns to him with a surprised look on his face.

“Wah, you used a positive adjective for once!”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Ahh, nothing, nothing,” Hinata shakes his head, laughing off the petty scowl Tsukishima pointed at him just earlier. “But… thank you, it means a lot coming from you, Tsukki.”

Hinata’s smile reaches his eyes this time, leaving little crinkles by his eyes that the blond wants to trace with his fingers, or press kisses onto—or fuck it, he could just do both. He looks so bright under the shitty street lamps that Tsukishima nearly forgets that this is a face to face conversation where he could be caught staring. Averting his eyes, he unconsciously pats at the lapel of his jacket.

_Okay, is it now? Do I do it now? What do I do? God, he’s so pretty—_

“Here.”

In a hurry, Tsukishima digs his hand into his jacket, pulling out the singularly wrapped rose he kept there to shove into Hinata’s face. He keeps his eyes averted as he feels the flower get plucked away from his fingers, not really wanting Hinata to see how red his face was. But then he hears a sniffle, and then a hiccup, and he knows for sure something is wrong.

Turning back to face Hinata, Tsukishima’s eyes go wide when he processes that Hinata was _crying._ The ginger had a balled fist lifted up towards his face, attempting to wipe away the tears that were flowing down his cheeks. Dropping his coffee, Tsukishima scrambles up from where he was sitting to crouch in front of Hinata, knees digging into the woodchips below when he lifts his hands to cup Hinata’s face, wiping away what Hinata doesn’t.

“What—Shou, why are you crying? What’s wrong? Did I—was it me? Did I say something wrong?”

Hinata shakes his head, and he giggles, the pretty sound occasionally being interrupted by a hiccup or a sniffle. Still not understanding what was wrong, Tsukishima stays in place, redirecting Hinata’s gaze back onto him. He mentally berates himself when his heart skips a beat, but it’s not really his fault that Hinata simply looks beautiful doing anything and everything—even in tears.

“C’mon, tell me what’s wrong…”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Hinata breathes after a moment of contemplation. “I just… I was just hit with a lot of emotions just now. Because, well—you’ve always been here for me. When I first got scouted, whenever I had to skip school to go to practices, and that time I got sick from training by myself in the rain—you were always there, even when I thought I was alone… I… man, whoever gets to date you is going to be lucky, just make sure you get approval from me first, okay? You deserve the best of the best.”

Heart nearly beating out of his chest, Tsukishima wonders what could go wrong if he voices his thoughts right now, and he comes to the conclusion that nothing but also everything could go wrong. His plan was to ask later, but Hinata is so soft and sweet right now, he can’t help but want to say something. He swallows down the lump in his throat. He gives himself exactly three seconds to think it over, and by the end of those three seconds, he still wants to say something. So he parts his lips, and prays for the best.

“Isn’t that a little unfair? I don’t think you’d disapprove of yourself, now, would you?”

Tsukishima feels when Hinata freezes up in his hands. The ginger blinks once, twice, then a couple more times, and then he turns to face Tsukishima with a confused look that the blond would like to slap off his face. Using his lips. Against Hinata’s lips.

“Sorry?”

Tsukishima gulps down his fear once more.

“I _said,_ I don’t think you’d disapprove of yourself, now, would you?”

“You… me… what?”

Rolling his eyes, the taller prepares himself to say something more obvious, because of course the guy he likes just _had_ to be an idiot. But before he could say anything, he lifts his eyes to meet not a tangerine, but a strawberry.

“WHAT?!”

Hinata’s legs push him away from where Tsukishima was crouching in front of him, hands coming up to cover his face (very poorly, might Tsukishima add, because the ginger is still peeking at him between his fingers). It’s a little ridiculous for Tsukki to think this, but he’s kind of proud that he can make Hinata blush more than the cold air can. You take that, air.

“WHAAAT?! No, no, that’s impossible! You’re so popular, this can’t be! I swear, you could snap your fingers and an entire army of people would be there ready to wipe your feet or some shit—guys, girls, I don’t know what you’re into, but you could get anyone! Okay, am I having a heatstroke?! No, it’s too cold for that. Maybe the brownies I had before the concern just took a long time to kick in—”

Tsukishima pulls Hinata closer with one hand on the swing’s seat, the other hand squeezing Hinata’s cheeks together, effectively turning whatever he wanted to say next into gibberish.

“Shou, shut up and think about it. You say you know me, right?”

Slowly, Hinata nods as well as he can with his face squished between Tsukishima’s long fingers.

“Do you really think this is something I would do for a friend? _Just_ a friend?”

Hinata nods again, although more reluctantly.

“You really think I’d sit out in the cold for three, nearly four hours for a _friend?”_

Hinata doesn’t respond, resorting to a sad attempt at a pout.

“I’d go out of my way to get flowers for someone who is just a friend?”

Slowly, Hinata shakes his head _no._

“Would I respond to a text at 3 in the morning about stage fright for a friend?”

Hinata shakes his head again.

“So what does this tell you, Shou?”

Tsukishima lets go of Hinata’s face and grabs hold of the other side of the seat instead, watching as the ginger’s face contorts through a series of emotions that has him questioning whether or not he really understood everything they discussed (well, everything that Tsukishima discussed) just now.

Hinata blinks, pursing his lips for a moment before he makes a face of realization and plops his fist into his free hand.

“I’m… your _best_ friend?!”

Tsukishima has to resist rolling his eyes back into another dimension.

“And here I thought I was being obvious with all my fucking pining, but I guess not.”

“Wha—”

“Look here, you absolute menace. I like you, okay? Shit, I might even love you. And I thought you’d catch on by now—”

Tsukishima suddenly feels the swing shift away from him, and within seconds, Hinata is kneeling in front of him, lips parted. He’s silent save for the little _oof_ he lets out when the seat comes back and bumps into his back. The blond purses his lips, ready for any reaction. And he’s not sure whether he should be happy or sad about the familiar poorly covered face thingy Hinata does.

Leaning closer, Tsukishima basks in the tiny squeak Hinata lets out when he realizes how close they are. _Cute._

“I’m telling you that you have a chance. Are you not gonna take it?”

He watches Hinata’s head tilt downwards, the ginger’s hands falling into his lap, where he starts to fiddle with his fingers nervously.

“You… you’ll be representing a part of Japan soon… shouldn’t you be more careful about your image?”

Tsukishima feels his eyebrow twitch.

“I’m pouring my damn heart out to you and you’re here thinking about my _image?_ God, I swear I’m a second away from a heart attack.”

The moment Hinata tries to avert his eyes, Tsukishima lifts a hand to grab Hinata’s chin with two fingers, gently redirecting the ginger once again until they made eye contact. He faintly registers the feeling of Hinata’s hands grasping onto the stiff material of his jeans, clawing at it, and somehow, it only manages to make him even more endearing than before.

It’s only when he makes direct eye contact with Hinata and looks right into those doe eyes that Tsukishima realizes he needs a moment to calm himself down. He never expected things to get this far. He kind of expected Hinata to give him a cheery rejection and then Tsukishima would decide to pass away for personal reasons, but _this,_ this is good. He wants this.

Taking a deep breath, he parts his lips to say the one name he loves saying the most.

“Shouyou.”

Hinata trembles in his hand—Tsukishima wants nothing more than to feel it again.

“Y-yes?”

“I like you. Do you like me?”

It takes a few minutes for Hinata to finally respond, but it’s okay. Tsukishima waited a year to do this, a few minutes is nothing.

“Y-yeah… I like you a lot. I’ve liked you since the beginning.”

Unable to stop his lips from tugging up into a bright grin, Tsukishima pulls Hinata to his chest, essentially burying the smaller there, where he belongs.

“Wait, Tsukki, stop—what if people see?!”

“It’s dark out, Shou. And we’re hidden by the trees here… Just… Just let me have this.”

Tsukishima isn’t sure whose heart he hears racing, and it doesn’t help that he feels as red as Hinata looks when he pulls away. It’s at this proximity that he gets a close up view of Hinata’s lips, still glistening from whatever lip product they used on him earlier, and he looks _delicious._ With all the courage he has left, Tsukishima leans down, down, down, until his lips find Hinata’s.

His lips are freezing cold, and his breath feels weird hitting his cheek in uneven puffs, but that’s okay. Tsukishima doesn’t think he’d rather take Hinata’s first kiss any differently. He counts to three before pulling away, but just as he does, he hears Hinata let out the tiniest whine, the ginger’s body shifting to chase after his lips, and God, how could he ever say no to that?

Leaning back in, the two share a few more kisses, each one lingering just a bit longer than the last. Tsukishima pulls away after what seems to be the hundredth kiss and rests his forehead against the ginger’s, basking in the warmth he somehow managed to radiate despite how cold it was outside.

“That was—”

“Your first, I know. We’ve talked about this before, Shou.”

Tsukishima hears Hinata huff and he scoffs in return.

“So… are we dating?”

“I’m not sure if I want to stay just friends after that. Or is this an idol thing where you kiss and don’t date? How scandalous—”

“God, you’re the worst.”

“But you love me, don’t you?”

Hinata huffs again this time, though his face is significantly redder. His pouting gives Tsukishima the time and opportunity to press a kiss to the tip of his nose before he’s standing up and holding onto Hinata’s wrists, trying to tug the ginger up with him.

“C’mon, we should get up and go home for now. It’s getting really late, and it’s cold. I don’t want you to get sick,” Tsukishima pauses when his tugging gets nowhere, looking down to see Hinata looking absolutely flustered. “…Shou?”

“I… my legs… I think they’ve become jelly at this point.”

Tsukishima doesn’t like where this is going.

“Carry me, please?”

And even though Tsukishima knew well that there was a glint of mischief behind Hinata’s bright eyes when he asks this, he still ends up with Hinata wrapped securely around his back, hands tucked underneath the ginger’s knees. The smaller hums and swings his legs lightly as Tsukishima walks them back to his house.

“Tsukki?”

“Hm? Why can’t you call my by my first name now?”

“I—that’s difficult!”

“Wow, what a baby—OUCH! What the fuck, Shou?!”

Tsukishima turns his head to glare at Hinata, his now boyfriend looking way too proud after nearly biting off the blond’s ear.

“That’s what you get for trying to call me the forbidden B word, _Kei.”_

“What, you don’t like being called baby? I call bullshit.”

“…No comment.”

\--

“Kei?””

“I swear to God, if you ask me one more time if we’re almost there—”

“Do straws have one hole or two?”

“I’m seriously starting to have regrets now.”

"Hey, no, no, no _don't drop me!!!"_

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading, i love you and appreciate you to bits!!! <3
> 
> -gracie
> 
> [ twt!!](https://twitter.com/h2owo2?s=09)


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